The Way it Hurts
by Oasis Haze
Summary: Set during 7x10. My take on the missing moments that occurred between Daryl and Carol while they were in the creepy house.


He hangs his head, waits for the blow. But who is he kidding? When she tells him to go, he knows he's just going to sit outside her house for god-knows-how-long.

But all he feels is her soft hand on his cheek, sending a familiar tingly warmth blooming through him.

"Come in," she says. And he knows she doesn't miss the deep sigh he finally lets out.

Silence falls over them once she closes the door behind him. She goes to the sofa, and he finds himself following her, like an instinct he'll never quite shake.

They sit quietly for so long, and Daryl's head starts to hurt with the things he wants to say, all swirling around in the back of his brain. Like how impressive those tripwires she set up are. How she's done real good securing all this and how even though it has been years since he's helped her with this stuff, he still feels a small swell of pride right now.

He watches her from the other end of the sofa, and she watches him right back.

"Why'd you come?" She says it so softly, breaking the silence for him. There is sincere confusion in her watery eyes.

"Wanted to see you," he blurts out. Ducks his head when the words settle between them, but he doesn't miss the surprise that flickers across her face.

Like he'd really not go to her once he had the chance. Like he'd really not knock on her door and at least _try._

Carol sucks in a sharp breath and Daryl looks up to find her turned away, staring hard at the ground.

She whispers something under her breath before her face dissolves into tears. He's already scooted over to her, his arm curling around her and pulling until she buries her face in his chest, just above the sensitive skin beneath his bandage - when he realizes what she said.

 _Why?_

He wants to touch her everywhere, then. Run his fingers through her hair and stroke her face and smooth his hands over her back, her arms. Kiss her face and brush away her tears and crush out whatever haunts her.

He knows he can't, not now. Not with a war waging on outside them, and all the things he has to fight, just waiting for him out there.

So he tightens his grip on her shoulders, rests his chin on her head. If he lets himself go any further, he'll never leave. The dream of sitting here with her in his arms forever is too damn tempting.

Once her sobs fade out, she looks at him.

"I'm sorry," she says, and it comes out like a whimper. He gently rubs his thumb in little circles on her arm before pulling himself away.

"Don't," Daryl says. He has to look down again, until his eyes have stopped stinging.

" _Daryl,_ " she whispers.

"I wasn't there," he rasps. "I wasn't there, an' I _should've_ been. I should've known… I should've been there. For you."

Carol stares at him, and that expression him makes him want to burrow his face into the crook of her neck and never come out again.

But she beats him to it, moving in closer, her arm winding around his stomach as she leans her head against his shoulder. His arm comes up almost involuntarily and encircles her frame.

"Do you wanna take a nap?" she asks, pulling away and looking at him with an almost imperceptible coy smile.

Daryl gapes at her. Feels his head start to spin and wonders if he actually heard her right, when she stands. Next thing he knows, he's following her into a small, old-fashioned bedroom.

Once his heart stops fluttering frantically, he reclines onto the ancient-looking mattress. Knows in that very moment that settling next to her in this old, creaky bed that smells like must and mothballs, will be imprinted in his memory forever.

Daryl stretches out on his side, and Carol curls herself into a ball, her face inches away from his chest, peering up at him with an expression that's almost playful.

She reaches out then, quicker than his mind can even process, and slides her arm over him, her hand resting on his back. Tugs him closer.

He leaves his boots on and fights the urge to pull one of those heavy quilts over them - bury them both into a cocoon of warmth that Daryl knows he'll never bring himself to break out of.

But he can't stop himself from smothering his nose into the softness of Carol's hair. Closes his eyes, letting the smell of her, the feeling of her arm around him and the warmth of her body nestled this close to his, chase away everything else. Just for a moment.

It's not long before he feels her breathing even out, and knows that if he lays here much longer, sleep will find him as well.

Daryl lets his arm settle over her hip and he closes his eyes. Just for a moment.

When he does leave, hours later, Carol's hand placed delicately on his arm makes him stop in the midst of gathering his supplies, and he turns to find her still-watery eyes watching him.

 _Well, fuck._

This can't happen now. Not while he's got a target on his back and not while there are swaths of madmen running around outside.

Daryl leans in slowly until his forehead rests softly against hers.

Carol reaches up with her other hand, cradles his cheek and gently rubs her thumb along his skin and damn if that doesn't almost do him in.

He wants to kiss those lips that are now only mere inches from his. Had wanted to ever since she opened the door, and embraced him, and let him in.

He bows his head and their noses meet. Just one more fraction of an inch and their lips will be touching and he won't be able to drag himself from the warmth of this little house, from her.

Carol's hand navigates from his cheek to the back of his neck, not pushing, just resting lightly against his skin and Daryl lets out a soft sigh.

If they stay like this much longer, he's bound to melt and kiss her and give in altogether. So he tilts his face and pushes his lips against the soft skin of her cheek. He knows he dove in too quickly by the way her head jostles back with the force, so he pulls back slightly, pressing a light, apologetic peck in the same place.

He hears her let out some sound that resembles a gasp, then her hand travels from the nape of his neck, down his shoulder, pausing at his chest. She keeps it there a moment, and he knows she must feel his heart hammering, but her smile sends a jolting mixture of relief and so many other things he can't even name running through him. Those nerve-endings that have been dead and collecting dust for what feels like ages, she manages to wake with one touch, one look.

Daryl lets his hand travel down the small of her back and linger there for a moment. He meets her eyes. There's a glint there, one that he doesn't remember seeing since the prison and he can't hold himself back from leaning in once again and touching his lips briefly to the tip of her nose. When he pulls back, she's smiling at him, and he turns and grabs his bow, walking to the door while he's still in control.

Carol follows, and the way she looks at him makes him want to drop all his shit and just stay here with her. She smiles at him weakly, sadly, and the firelight glowing warmly on her skin and sparkling in her eyes is something he wants to keep with him forever. A picture he knows he'll be thinking about for a long time after this.

"I'll find you." It comes out in a rushed murmur. He doesn't know if that sadness in her eyes is there because he's leaving, but hell. He nods at her, firmly. "I will."

It's a promise he knows he can't keep, and she knows it too but she nods back at him all the same.

He'll say it then - all the things that swept up in his head ever since he knocked on her door - when he can stay and not give a fuck about what goes on outside or who's watching them. For now, all he can do is watch her looking at him, in this soft light. It sends something strange and foreign and _so_ pleasant pouring through him.

Daryl opens the door quickly, and steps out into the cold.


End file.
